


Fulcrum's Fate

by moomkin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Capture, Fulcrum, Gen, Torture, Zero Hour, some slight kalluzeb fluff there at the end, taking care of your hurt man and all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moomkin/pseuds/moomkin
Summary: Agent Kallus knew he was taking a risk when he turned down the chance to escape the Empire... now that Thrawn has caught him, survival will depend on how well he can withstand the Chiss officer's torture. Filling in the cut scenes from Zero Hour, later chapters will go slightly off show as a battered Kallus makes it to the Ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

"This is Fulcrum, with an urgent message. Thrawn knows about-"

The transmitter sputtered, catching Kallus's voice in his throat. Interference? Not likely. Just a malfunction, then? His fingers reached for the knobs, but no – they were in the correct positions…

~Jumpy? This isn't like you. Spying has made you paranoid.~ Though it was easier for Kallus to chide himself than to rein his suddenly racing heart.

This was an old communications tower, abandoned long ago. It had been able to hide Ezra Bridger, even with the Empire hunting him down, for years. It was one of the reasons he was using it. No, he couldn't have been discovered... he'd gone through the same routine, ensured he wasn't being followed...

And yet he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Something wasn't right. Was it possible it could be a planet-wide long range transmissions block? Something new caught his eye and Kallus glanced up. The Fulcrum icon, a hologram projection he used when communicating with the rebels instead of the typical projection of himself, had turned...red?

He knew the risk he was taking. He'd overheard Grand Admiral Thrawn say he felt there was still a rebel spying on him. And this despite Thrawn agreeing with Kallus's false report that Lieutenant Lyste was the rebel spy they'd been tracking.

But what he'd overheard during Thrawn's secret meeting - a meeting he hadn't been invited to, despite being the ISB agent in charge of Lothal - was too important. Thrawn had deduced that the rebels planned to attack the TIE Defender factory on the planet. The Empire would be well prepared for their attack. And when Thrawn downplayed Grand Moff Tarkin's request to capture the rebel leadership? The rebellion had to know, or they'd-

"By the light of Lothal's moon."

Thrawn's chilling voice cut through Kallus's thoughts, a cold knife sinking into his heart. He turned to see the Chiss Imperial standing in the doorway – arrogant confidence barely contained beneath his stone like face. Kallus's heart rate kicked up a notch, but he quickly willed it into resolve. There was no more hiding. Good. Acting wasn't his strong suit.

"That is your code phrase, isn't it, Agent Kallus?" Thrawn went on, the smugness on his voice. "Or, would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?"

Kallus wasn't going to play his game. Thrawn paused again, as though expecting him to lie, to try to explain himself. "This isn't what this looks like" or something pointless like that. But no, Kallus glared back. He wasn't going to show fear. Even if his heart was hammering against his ribs, sending a wave of adrenaline throughout his body, he wasn't going to be afraid. He knew the risks he'd been taking.

"I'm afraid your rebel friends won't receive your warning," Thrawn continued his goading, even going so far as to hold out the device blocking his transmission.

The provoking worked. Kallus saw his chance. Defeat – or at the least, momentarily incapacitating – Thrawn, long enough to destroy the transmitter. He could still get his warning message out. He had to try.

Kallus leapt up. Behind his attack there were months of irritation building up, dying to be released. Masking his outright hatred of the Chiss for months, and now, he could do something with all of it. He opened with a kick, which Thrawn blocked easily – almost with expectation.

~What are you doing!? You're going to hurt yourself. You'll never going to win against him. He fights battle droids for practice.~

But the rebellion inside had made him impulsive. It was too late.

The battle had already begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Opening a fight with a left kick. That was something odd. Especially for a man who was right handed.

Of course Thrawn wasn't entirely shocked. A foolish move to open with, for all it did was cement in Thrawn's mind the idea that Kallus had a weakness. The fight would be short. He knew exactly what to exploit.

Kallus had opened himself up to other weaknesses, other strengths. Kallus wasn't ashamed of moving information to the rebels. He hadn't tried to beg for understanding or offer an explanation. His turn to traitor was absolute. Not unsurprising. Something to file away, to remember for later. Someone not ashamed of spying could be made to regret it very, very much - very easily.

But his other weakness? Kallus could be provoked into making mistakes. The kind of things rebels did quite frequently. Make quick decisions based off of misguided emotions, not logical thought. These humans, they showboated all their insecurities and desires like it was a parade, and were constantly surprised when they were used against them.

Thrawn threw a right punch, but only his forearm landed – Kallus had raised his shoulder to protect himself. Yes… typical Imperial training. A standard block. A pretty simple feint that Kallus should have been smart enough to see.

He threw his left forearm into Kallus's stomach, but this time Kallus was prepared – he ducked as Thrawn threw the finishing punch. Or the punch that should have connected with Kallus's temple. Clever. But nothing to assume Kallus posed a threat.

The missed landing caused Thrawn to momentarily loss his balance. A blunder he anticipated Kallus to capitalize on. Fighting instincts drew up his right arm to block and felt Kallus's arm. Yes, these humans were so predictable.

A quick jab to the bottom of the ribs and he could feel the sharp intake of breath from his opponent. He imagined it caused considerable pain. It was hard to imagine being so weak. It was impossible to calculate why this human, so vulnerable to pain, would risk fighting him?

Thrawn wrapped his blocking arm around Kallus's neck, and with a quick side step was able to throw Kallus onto the ground. He wouldn't press the attack – Kallus growled as he leapt back to his feet as Thrawn comfortably returned his arms behind his back. He wanted Kallus to know he wasn't even the slightest bit threatened.

That growl – that frustration. Thrawn knew – it was time to draw out another rash attack.

"Your technique is good, but limited by your training in the Imperial Academy," Thrawn drawled. His eyes narrowed. Yes, he could see it on Kallus's face. His goading had done it's job.

"Predictable-" Thrawn went on, but Kallus had fallen into his trap. His taunting was making Kallus reckless, not any less predictable.

When the rebel spy tried, Thrawn was well prepared. He caught the Stormtrooper helmet Kallus had thrown at him without hardly a look of surprise.

When Kallus lunged forward, sweeping his legs out from under him, Thrawn simply noted – favoring the left leg again. There was no doubt. Thrawn knew how to end this fight.

A crunch, a warbled mechanical groan, and Thrawn turned to see that his handheld short-range transmission blocker was smashed. Kallus grinning as though it were some kind of victory. A minor setback. Triangulating the direction of the rebel communique was still going to take some time. If Kallus had known that, he would have used this moment to destroy the transmitter itself.

Thrawn saw the Fulcrum icon sputter through a brief moment of static, as though shaking itself off from the block, and shimmered white again. He cast a quick glance at Kallus. The line was open.

"You talk too much," Kallus growled.

Thrawn almost allowed himself a smile. Very well. He assumed a new fighting stance. Time to finish the fight. Kallus, angry, seething almost, his small victory in destroying the blocker was making him over confident. He truly thought he might stand a chance. It was enough to make Thrawn smile.

Kallus pressed the attack, which Thrawn thwarted with a kick into Kallus's side. He recovered well enough. Now to get him in position to finish him off.

Kallus tried to swing at the Chiss but Thrawn easily avoided it, opening up all of Kallus's left side to attack.

Thrawn stepped in, another jab into Kallus's chest, ducking to avoid the counter attack Kallus was so foolish into committing to. It came in waves, kick here, counter that, upper cut. Distracting him. Leaving his old wound open and -

SLAM

He brought his foot down as hard as he could on Kallus's right thigh. He felt the leg immediately give way underneath him. Only months ago had that leg been broken – or so he'd discovered in Kallus's medical files. As soon as he suspected the Imperial Security Bureau agent of defecting, he'd consumed all the information he could on him. And it was that information which finished the fight.

The pained gasp – Thrawn guessed the pain must have been momentarily all-consuming – perhaps the pain was so bad it was blocking his sight. Thrawn had heard it explained like that, that when humans experienced pain that was so extreme the vision had a habit of whiting out. In any case, Kallus didn't see Thrawn's last strike. He kicked him in the face, sending the human flying.

Just as he'd calculated – a short fight. The finishing move planned in advance. Everything went as he had anticipated.

Thrawn readjusted the sleeves of his starkly white uniform – glancing down at it, he was glad to see it hadn't been soiled in the fight. Glancing up, his deathtroopers had already taken his adversary captive. Each holding onto one of Kallus's arms. The Chiss looked down to see how well his attack had affected him, and yes, he noted with due pleasure that Kallus wasn't putting weight on his right leg. Broken again? Or just too painful to use?

Allowing himself only the smallest hint of satisfaction with his victory, he reminded Kallus, "You have a heart of a rebel."

Meaning, you are stupid, reckless, emotional, and easy to exploit.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Kallus spat back.

Thrawn's eyes narrowed. A compliment. He would make sure Kallus regretted turning his back on the Empire.


	3. Chapter 3

What did you expect?

The pain in Kallus's leg was returning to a dull ebb, but it was too late to make use of his clearer head. A pair of death troopers had already grabbed him, pulled him to his knees. Don't bother standing, Kallus told himself. Don't hurt yourself more just for your pride. Not like there would be much use in trying to escape now, anyways.

He'd have to bide his time and wait for an opening. Mentally trying to map out his future, Kallus could already start to imagine ways he could escape. He'd arrested plenty of insurgents in his time with the ISB. He'd go back to Capitol City, get processed, brought to a cell.

He knew the routine, the building, the-

Kallus snapped out of his thoughts. The deathtroopers were… bringing him back into the tower.

A surge in his heart rate caused his throat to close up. Realizing it was uncomfortable enough to make him struggle to breath, Kallus instinctively forced himself to swallow. Breath. Going back into the tower… was not protocol. It didn't follow the routine. But with his fate in the hands of Thrawn, anything was… he didn't want to think it.

"Agent Kallus," Thrawn said, still cold, still emotionless, though there was something else, too. A rippling anger just below the surface. "Do you know what that device was you so carelessly destroyed?" He gestured to the broken device on the ground that Kallus had stomped on during their fight.

Kallus chose not to answer.

"Not only could it block out your transmission, it also plotted the trajectory of its course."

Thrawn glanced back to the transmitter Kallus had been using, the white Fulcrum icon still waiting… on standby.

"Now I only have one option if I am to discover where you were sending your messages. Where your rebel friends are hiding. Agent Kallus, I believe Fulcrum will be sending another transmission-"

Kallus laughed. He wasn't really in the right position to be mocking the Grand Admiral, but Thrawn couldn't seriously think he would cooperate. He wasn't scared, well, not enough to try to play nice and hope for a better deal. He knew the price for treason. Death. It wouldn't get any better if he helped the Empire.

"You misunderstand me, Agent Kallus," Thrawn said, making a slight move with his hands. A preplanned gesture – the death troopers tightened their grips. "We only need to keep the line open. The subject of the transmission is irrelevant. And I believe your rebel friends could do well to learn how the Empire deals with traitors."

Kallus's heart rate climbed some more – he could feel his pulse slamming against his temples.

"Standby to track transmission," Thrawn said into his communicator.

 

"Two minutes is enough," Thrawn said to the deathtroopers, his fingers hesitating over the switch which would start the transmission.

Waiting for a word to begin, Kallus braced himself. No matter what they do, you have to get the message out.  
Not a word. The sharp clack of the transmitter turning on.

"HE-"

But that was as much of the message as Kallus could say. His words were quickly lost to a wordless scream. The deathtrooper holding his left arm had straightened his elbow, and was applying pressure over the joint.

The other deathtrooper ground his foot onto Kallus's right thigh, digging his heal into his old wound. The pain flared up, the ebb swelling so fast Kallus was sure he would pass out.

The message. They have to have the message.

He yanked his left shoulder, even though a shock of pain traveled up his arm. For a moment he was sure he'd broken his own elbow, and the cry he made was more pathetic than he'd ever wish to sound, but it was enough. He rolled his leg out from under the other death trooper. It was enough.

"THRAWN KNOWS ABOUT THE TIE FACT-"

It was like getting hit in the face with a brick wall. Flashed of color danced in his vision, his shock enough to cut him off. Another strike, above his left eyebrow. Warm blood splattered the ground. One more strike, while he was staggered forward - and he was laying on the ground, his head swimming.

Arms grabbed him once more, pulled him up. Kallus kept his head down, and only a moment later, he felt the armored hand of a deathtrooper grab a handful of his hair and yank his head up. Eyes looking up at Thrawn.

Kallus glowered back, defiant.

"CUT THE TRANSMISSION!" he yelled, his eyes still glued on Thrawn. "HE'S TRACING-"

When Thrawn threw his next punch, Kallus realized their fight earlier was in no way Thrawn's best effort. Despite the exterior of in-control-calm, Thrawn was utterly wreathing in anger. His fist connected with Kallus's mouth and for a few moments, Kallus could do little more than blink and struggle to remain conscious. He tasted the metallic warmth of blood in his mouth, tried to spit it out, but nearly bit his tongue at the next blow.

"Higher," Kallus heard Thrawn order, and the two death troopers tightened their hold on his arms. And then Thrawn assaulted his chest, slammed fist after fist after fist into Kallus's ribs.

"Grand Admiral, the coordinates from the last transmission," a voice warbled through the communicator at the Chiss's side.  
Kallus continued blinking, struggling to stay conscious. He opened his mouth to try and shout again, but he was surprised to only hear an incoherent groan escape, followed by a hiss as he tried to gulp down air. Breathing was sporadic, for everything hurt, and Kallus was desperately testing what manner of breathing could actually be done without intense pain. He coughed, which only added a sharp stab of pain to his chest.

"Very good, forward those coordinates to this location," Thrawn's voice was once again cool, calm, stone like. He crossed the room to the transmitter, and Kallus looked up long enough to see Thrawn shut it down. Kallus hoped it had been enough... he could have ridden out that transmission without taking such a risk... a joint lock hurt badly, but usually never left any permanent damage... now he felt broken everywhere... hopefully it was enough...

The few moments of silence that followed the break in the broadcast were filled with Kallus's pained gasps.

"Troopers, secure Agent Kallus here," Thrawn said. "There's a few things we need to discuss. Alone."

Kallus felt another stab in his chest as his heart raced into a new flurry. He was dragged across the floor, his arms raised above his head. He felt cold handirons placed around his wrist – and tightened as hard as they would go. A shock of pain shot down his arm from his wrists. And then they were gone. Kallus must have been losing his mind, because he was terrified to see them go.

The worst is over, he tried to convince himself. Calm down. Stay in control. 

But control was certainly the last thing Kallus had.


	4. chapter 4

While there was a lull, Kallus mentally analyzed his injuries.  
He could feel his left eye swelling up, the pressure making it feels like there was a fist inside his skull pounding on the back of his eye. The cuts on his forehead and lip had stopped bleeding. His chest continued to burn, but the pain wasn't getting worse.  
His leg still throbbed, but Kallus was fairly certain it hadn't been re-broken. Of course, putting pressure on it was not helping, but he had little choice. Kallus's hand were bound high above his head – he either had to stand, or hang by his wrists – both options hurt. He had tried to stand on his good leg only, but he was too dizzy. The first time he'd let himself fall, the bolt of pain that lit up his arms was enough to keep him from doing it again.  
All in all, better than he could have hoped. He still stood a chance at escaping, as long as he kept his head.  
Thrawn, in the meanwhile, couldn't have been less interested in him. He was busy reading schematics, no doubt trying to figure out which planets lay on course of his Fulcrum transmission. But at least that was one thing Kallus had managed to do right – the planet no longer existed. He'd personally deleted it from the Imperial records. Whatever other planets lay on the same course as his Fulcrum message…. He just hoped they would be able to ride out whatever Thrawn had planned.  
The Chiss smiled suddenly, and just as quickly hid the expression under his normal stone like persona… Kallus kept his emotion internal. No matter what he thought he found, Kallus knew it wouldn't be the rebel base.  
A few more clicks, and a hologram projection of a segment of the Outer Rim expanded into the room.  
"You may have transmitted your warning, Agent," Thrawn started. "but in doing so you've given me the last piece of the puzzle."  
"Now this is the trajectory of General Dodanna's fleet, and this is the trajectory of your Fulcrum transmission."  
Another quick jolt of panic – the two lines intersected. Whatever idiot would fly their rebel fleet straight to their objective?! Kallus was new to the whole rebellion thing, but even he was smart enough to realize the importance of making multiple hyperspace jumps, to throw off pursuit. If he ever lived long enough to meet this General, he was going to-  
"Now taken separately, they mean nothing, but together-"  
"Nothing. There's no planet there," Kallus said.  
For a moment, Kallus wondered if Thrawn knew he'd changed the records. No…. if he knew, why would be bother opening the transmission? He needed the trajectory of the Fulcrum message.  
"The rebels are smarter than you give them credit for," Kallus added. It seemed to be the only way to hurt Thrawn – right in his overinflated ego.  
"A pity you don't study art, Agent Kallus. There is much it can show you, if you know where to look," Thrawn said. Kallus rolled his eyes. Maybe he was becoming delirious, to be so openly annoyed, but… why any artist anywhere would depict an unpopulated planet in the middle of nowhere was beyond him.  
"Such as a system which does not appear on Imperial charts, but is represented in the art of the ancient people in this sector."  
For a brief moment, Kallus had suspected Thrawn was merely looking for some kind of sign from Kallus that the two intersecting trajectories meant something. Threaten to know something, see how he reacted – that kind of thing. But no… Thrawn really did figure it out. Kallus felt his heart rate start climbing again.  
"I believe they call this Atallon," Thrawn said, a planet showing up dramatically on the hologram projector where the two trajectories intersected. "Now the home of your rebel base."  
Kallus suddenly realized what had happened. Thrawn's objective was never to defend the factory here on Lothal. He'd amassed his fleet with the hopes of discovering the Rebel base. And when he had no idea how to find it, he merely threw together a fake secret meeting…. Thrawn had calculated that Kallus's desire to help his friends would push him to take the risk... and Kallus had fallen into the trap easily. Kallus could feel the terror, once easily contained, show on his face. He'd betrayed them… he'd been foolish. He led Thrawn straight to them…  
"Admiral Konstantine, deploy the fleet to these coordinates," Thrawn said into his communicator, a hungry satisfaction on his face. Kallus winced, the guilt hurting worse than the physical pain. Thrawn would destroy the rebel base… And he'd given him the last clue he needed to do it.  
"We will join you… shortly," Thrawn ended the transmission.  
Kallus winced again. We will join you – did Konstantine know that he, Kallus, was there? And shortly… they weren't leaving now? Why would they stay? Here? In this tower? When the only thing Thrawn had been working on for months was in his grasp… Kallus felt dizzy again.  
"Now, we still have a little matter to clear up," Thrawn continued, and Kallus winced – his heart rate kicking up only enflamed his bruised ribs. The Chiss officer stopped directly in front of him, and Kallus glared at him. The only thing that helped push away the guilt was anger.  
Thrawn reached out his hand, and Kallus felt warm fingers encircling his neck. He tried to shake him off, but the hand only tightened its grip. Kallus pulled his face into a wince. He hated the feeling of Thrawn's hand on him, unable to escape. He coughed, and struggled again – the grip wasn't hard enough to keep him from breathing. So then, for what?  
Kallus felt fingers press into the side of his neck, and the answer of a desperately fast pulse drumming against them.  
"You are terrified, Agent Kallus," Thrawn deduced, and released his grip.  
Kallus chanced another glance at the Chiss, but Thrawn was now pacing back and forth before him. Acting… emotional. No – Kallus knew this behavior – Thrawn must have been seething with anger, pumped full of adrenaline… unable to do anything with it, his body resorted to pacing.  
But Kallus was certain Thrawn would find another outlet to his anger…


	5. Chapter 5

Even if he had suspected for some time that Agent Kallus was the rebel spy Fulcrum, actually catching him in the act of betraying the Empire infuriated Thrawn. Now that he'd solved the problem of locating the rebel base, there was really no need for Agent Kallus anymore. Even if it were against protocol, Thrawn was more than eager to end the traitor's life by his own hands.  
He knew the kind of execution the Imperial Security Bureau would deliver. Quick, momentary, compassionate even. No, that's not what Agent Kallus deserved.  
He wrapped his fingers around Kallus's neck, feeling the racing pulse under his touch. Thrawn wouldn't kill Kallus like this – even if a lack of oxygen would prompt a panicked death, even that felt too gentle a way to go than he merited. But that panic – it could be useful. Being close to death was one way to convince an otherwise stubborn person to reveal all kinds of information. Thrawn would certainly leave bruises, even if they would be hidden underneath the high collar of Kallus's uniform.  
"Now what have I done to you," he said, letting go of Kallus's neck and straightened up the shoulder's of Kallus's uniform, patronizingly. He lifted a hand to Kallus's face.  
"This cut on your eyebrow… superficial," he said. "Perhaps stitches, nothing of much concern. Your lip, yes, that's deep, you will want stitches for that. I imagine the wound makes it painful to speak. And your eye-"  
Kallus jerked his head away and tried to contain the hiss of pain. But Thrawn dominated – grabbing Kallus's jaw, he held his head in place.  
"Orbital bone may be broken," he said. "Very painful."  
"And your ribs, also so sensitive," he went on. "And your leg, well, that bone, it's difficult to tell. Nothing life threatening. Does that please you?"  
Kallus tried to wrest his jaw out of Thrawn's hands but the Chiss only tightened his grip.  
"I've read through your records, Agent Kallus," a hiss all too apparent on Thrawn's voice. "And I have yet to uncover a reason for your treachery. You've been cleared by the Senate of anything you could be blackmailed for. And you have no vices, you're not in debt, you have no family. You have a perfect record of the highest level of performance with no inclinations leading you to betray your Empire."  
"What did they promise you?" he growled. "What did they-"  
Even Thrawn didn't anticipate his next move. Jumping up, allowing his entire body weight to hang by his binds, Kallus kicked Thrawn in the chest, ripping his hand off of Kallus's neck, sending the Chiss across the floor. Kallus landed inelegantly, but even though he wobbled on his good leg, he still held himself triumphantly.  
Thrawn straightened up quickly, glaring at his prisoner.  
Kallus laughed, a rebellious spark in his eye. "You're not angry that I defected from the Empire. Just that you can't figure out why."  
Kallus smiled as a look flashed between the two. Thrawn must have given away something on his expression, for Kallus had arrived at the correct conclusion. His smile deepened as the Chiss growled again.  
Thrawn crossed the floor quickly. A swift strike, aimed for his temple, and Kallus crumpled, hanging eerily from the shakles.  
"Sir-" a voice interrupted.  
If Thrawn had grabbed his communicator any harder, he very well might have crushed it.  
"What is it?" he snapped into the communicator.  
"Admiral Konstantine is requesting your presence at Atallon."  
"The rebel fleet?"  
"As you predicted," the voice responded.  
Thrawn straightened up, returning his attention to Kallus.  
"Very good. Is my shuttle awaiting outside as I requested?"  
"Roger, sir."  
"Good. Retrieve the prisoner. He will accompany us."  
"Sir?" Thrawn knew why the death trooper was confused. A traitor to the Empire should surely have been sent right away to Capital City, locked away safely with the ISB building, to await execution.  
"I have changed the plan," Thrawn answered. "I wish for Agent Kallus to witness firsthand how the Empire deals with rebellion. He will watch me destroy his friends. All of them."  
-SWR-  
Kallus slowly opened his eyes, and regretted coming to. His whole body ached. The pain was a wave of pressure, pulsating, drumming throughout his body. His head felt like it was twice as big as normal and trying to grow even larger. That annoying loose lock of hair was in his eyes again. He groaned involuntarily.  
He was laying on a hard, cold floor. Where, he wasn't entirely sure. The floor was metal, freezing to the touch. In fact, the air was freezing, too. He tested his hands, but no – they were still bound. Still a prisoner. But he wasn't dead.  
A bump jostled his body. A transport then. But to where? Protocol would suggest he was on his way to a detention cell, but with Thrawn…  
Thrawn!  
Kallus lifted his head, looking around. He was in the cargo hold of a shuttle. He recognized it immediately. And unfortunately he wasn't alone. Thrawn sat opposite of him, regarding him with distant curiosity.  
"Where are we going?" Kallus asked.  
"Patience, Agent Kallus," Thrawn answered. "Your execution can wait."  
Kallus swallowed back dread at the tone of his captor's voice.  
"No, a swift execution would not be fair to one such as yourself," Thrawn continued. "Spying, sabotage, your attempt to assassinate me – these are not matters to be taken lightly. Watching me destroy your rebel friends will be a start in paying for your crimes."  
Kallus turned his head away, the guilt coming back. He'd nearly forgotten that he was responsible for all of this. How would anyone in the Rebellion trust him now? The last time he'd interacted with them, it was with Ezra Bridger, who'd come to extract him…. Ezra had not been shy in sharing his opinion that the ISB agent could not be trusted. Despite him constantly working to prove the contrary, there was the horrible realization that Ezra had shown him where the hidden rebel base was…. and then turned down his offer to leave the Empire. And now. Now Thrawn was coming to destroy Atallon.  
Kallus winced, the feeling of guilt getting to him again. He'd been hoping to escape, to defect, to start a new life, but why would any of the rebels trust him? They would all jump to the same no… in the communications tower, he'd discovered Thrawn's weakness. When he taunted the Chiss for being angry about not knowing why he'd defected – that was the secret. Thrawn expected control over everything.  
If only Kallus could think of a way to convince Thrawn he ~had no control… If he could get him to see defectors everywhere? Insubordinates at every turn. Not like it was that much of a stretch. Except for Governor Pryce, Kallus was certain pretty much every other Imperial he'd ever met was either terrified of Thrawn or utterly despised him. If Kallus could plant the idea in Thrawn's mind… make Thrawn become so paranoid that he'd turn his tactician mind against himself? It was all he could do to make right the wrong he'd done to the Rebellion.  
"As you know, Agent Kallus-"  
"You really do talk too much," Kallus shot back.  
Thrawn narrowed his eyes, got out of his seat and delievered a brutal kick to Kallus's chest. The old pain, a dull throb in the back of his mind, flared up, engulfing his ribs in fire. Suitably satisfied, Thrawn sat back down and continued.  
"I've studied the art of war… spent a lifetime working to perfect it. It's unavoidable when perusing such a craft, that you become exposed to the most creative ways to torture sentient beings. As you can no doubt guess, I've been unable to test how effective many of these are. The most interesting means by far are strictly illegal, but I'm hoping with the destruction of your Rebellion, my Emperor may see to grant me certain… leniencies."  
Kallus couldn't breathe, and it had nothing to do with the pain in his chest.  
"When the time comes for you to finally face your execution," Thrawn concluded as the dull bang of landing echoed in the cargo bay, "you will be thanking me, Agent Kallus."


	6. chapter 6

Kallus didn't know which was more unbearable – the pain, or the effort needed to hide it.  
The shuttle had landed, the death troopers pulled him to his feet. Apparently Grand Admiral Thrawn wanted him to remain by his side. For what purpose, Kallus tried to stop himself from imagining, but he couldn't stop his mind from seeking out the worst possibilities.  
It was a strange position to find himself in. Even if Kallus was sure his leg hadn't been rebroken, it sent a jolt of pain up his spine every time he put pressure down on it. Every time he lagged, there was a sharp shove of a rifle in his back to get him to keep pace.  
And then there were appearances to try and maintain.  
It started the minute they were off the shuttle. The awkwardness in the storm trooper's body language, the expressions on the officer's faces – they didn't know how to react. Here was someone in Imperial uniform, but with a face bloody and beaten, obviously being treated as a prisoner. Most did the only smart thing – look away, pretend they didn't see anything.  
Kallus tried to stand tall, look professional – hard to do when his hands were bound behind his back and his couldn't put his full weight down on his leg. He didn't fully understand why he bothered with appearances at all. His lot was with the Rebellion now. There would be no turning back. Not that he'd want to. But still, there was nothing to cling to but what he knew, and that was how to be an Imperial agent.  
Somewhere in the back of his head, Kallus kicked himself for not being a better rebel.  
He wasn't going to make it all the way to the bridge.  
The next step he took, Kallus barely contain a sear of pain before collapsing. Without his hands to brace his fall, he crumpled against the ground hard. Thrawn didn't stop.  
"On your feet, rebel," one of the death troopers ordered, grabbing Kallus's arm and yanking him back up.  
But one more attempted step, and Kallus was back on the ground, trying to contain his growl of pain. Finally Thrawn stopped.  
"We don't have all day," he said, annoyed. Apparently, the death troopers took this as a signal to pull Kallus up and drag him.  
He kept his eyes down, and tried to come up with a plan. How was he possibly going to get away now? He could barely walk. What was he going to do, crawl? Kallus's mind raced. His only option would be if he were alone. Preferably not with the death troopers, and especially not with Thrawn. Use the last bit of strength he had to knock out whoever was guarding him and….  
They were in a lift.  
"We expect to be out of hyperspace within the next minute," Kallus heard Governor Pryce's voice over Thrawn commlink.  
"Thank you, Governor," Thrawn said. He glanced down at Kallus, and noticed his eyes darting back and forth. Thinking. Planning something.  
"Troopers, ensure that whatever Agent Kallus is preparing to do, he isn't able to," Thrawn ordered.  
Kallus braced himself – what else could he do? – and one of the death troopers slammed the butt of his rifle into his shoulder blade. It drove him onto the floor once again, and he gasped in pain. The doors of the lift opened.  
Hands grabbed him once again, dragging along after his captor.  
Kallus closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. Okay, so Thrawn is watching you. Every single second. Don't look like you're doing anything.  
But he had to come up with something. He was in the best position to help the rebels. He had to do something to stall Thrawn, to throw him off guard… hopefully without getting himself killed. He couldn't be reckless… His life had to mean something.  
Governor Pryce turned to watch them enter the bridge, her eyes only briefly sweeping over Agent Kallus. He made eye contact with her, reading her expression. There wasn't even the slightest bit of surprise. Did everyone know he'd played the part of Fulcrum.  
"Debrief me," Thrawn ordered.  
"We have the rebel fleet surrounded," Governor Pryce said. "Admiral Konstantine has activated gravity wells. They will not be escaping."  
The blur of hyperspace tore back into points of light – stars once again becoming stars on the backdrop of the stark blackness of space. They were at Atallon.  
Kalllus felt his heart leap into this throat, choking him off. The Rebellion truly had no chance… but that had never stopped them before.  
"What of Governor Tarkin's prisoners?" Governor Pryce asked, referring to one of the frigates… they were firing upon it.  
"General Dodanna is known for his courage," Thrawn answered blankly. "He would not be aboard the first vessel to flee. Its crew is therefore irrelevant."  
Kallus watched out the window, as hands pressed down on his shoulders, keeping him on the ground. The window filled with a distant explosion.  
"Now that we've got their attention," Thrawn said, eyes taking in the wreckage. "Let's meet our opponents."  
He activated the hologram, and Kallus saw the holograms of the rebel commanders pop up. Kallus's heart rate kicked up a knock once again.  
"General Dodanna, Commander Sato, Captain Syndulla," Thrawn said. Kallus watched, studying the faces of the other rebels. Surprise. Resolve. At least Hera looked like she wanted to reach into that hologram and slap Thrawn.  
"At last we meet in this theater of war, however briefly."  
Kallus could detect the joy on Thrawn's voice. He was in his element – his months of studying and waiting were paying off, the chess board set exactly how he wanted. He was ready to play.  
"There is no escape and your forces are badly outnumbered. This rebellion ends today."  
"We'll never surrender to you, Thrawn," Hera growled.  
"You misunderstand, Captain. I'm not accepting surrenders at this time. I want you to know failure, utter defeat, and that it is I who delivers it, crushing down upon you."  
Thrawn lifted his hand, a signal to the death troopers, Kallus felt them grab his arms and pull him forward. He tried to plant his feet against the ground, to stop them, but it was a useless effort.  
"I never would have discovered the location of your base without the help of your friend, Agent Fulcrum," Thrawn added.  
The death troopers pulled Kallus up to his feet, another jab in his back from a rifle, and he was within the hologram's pick up range. He kept his eyes on his feet. His legs were trembling, and at least staring at his feet gave him something to focus on. Don't fall down.  
He didn't want to imagine what kinds of expressions the other rebels were throwing at him.  
"A shame I must dispose of such a promising agent of the Empire," Thrawn mused. Kallus was pretty sure the shiver that went down his spine shook his entire body.  
"We'll be happy to take him off your hands," he heard Hera said. The stab of guilt hit Kallus hard.  
"I've got other plans for Agent Fulcrum, Captain Syndulla," Thrawn said.  
"Now, let us proceed."


	7. Chapter 7

"And now we see what move they choose to open with," Thrawn mused, staring out of the window onto the field of battle.  
Kallus was studying his expression – the reflection revealed as little as the actual Chiss officer. His mind was racing. He had to find a way to escape, but he had to do something to stop Thrawn. Give the Rebellion a chance.  
Of course thinking it was one thing – the pain thumping throughout his body was something else, to say nothing of the panic. But being able to think clearly in stressful situations was a skill he'd perfected over the years working with the ISB.  
At least they wanted to have you, Kallus thought to himself. That had been unexpected. It was perhaps the first blunder Kallus imagined Thrawn had taken. Why he'd bothered to reveal him at all was something Kallus couldn't figure out. Thrawn could have easily just said "Agent Kallus betrayed you," and that would have been that.  
But trying to figure out what game Thrawn was playing was impossible.  
Focus.  
It was hard when the only people who would rescue him looked on the verge of being completely wiped out.  
"Sato is deploying a Denon tactic, bold, but I'd expect no less from the greatest commander to ever come out of the Michavo system."  
Thrawn really did know every last one of these rebels.  
"Reinforce our center and send in the fighters."  
Thrawn watched the TIE fighters flood passed the window, and reached for the hologram projector. An image of Konstantine materialized before him.  
"Yes, Grand Admiral?" Konstantine… sounded worried. Stressed? Kallus at least found someone he could read.  
"Konstantine, keep your Interdictor cruiser back until I order otherwise."  
Kallus say it, the shifted expression. There was a sneer of annoyance. Kallus's heart leapt. He'd found it. Something to use.  
"Why not just attack now, with overwhelming force?"  
"Because I know these Rebels-" and Thrawn! He answered back with an appropriate growl of annoyance. That was it – that was what Kallus could use.  
"- I've studied them. They will no doubt defy convention and attempt something unexpected. We will be prepared for it, as long as you do exactly as I say."  
"As you wish," Konstantine answered, the annoyance couldn't be more plain.  
Kallus turned his head away to hide what was a completely spontaneous grin.  
"Fighting over glory?" Kallus asked, ready to start playing.  
Thrawn turned – Kallus had hoped to have touched a nerve, but no, Thrawn was smiling, too.  
"I do not require glory, only results, for my Emperor."  
"But what about Konstantine?" Kallus asked. "He's tired of your control, like everyone else. He'll take the first chance he can get to claim the credit for what you've set up."  
Kallus kept the grin on his face, even though his stomach fell as Thrawn turned to face him.  
"Is that so?" he said – the smile gone. What had replaced it was impossible to read. "And you, Agent Kallus, were you so tired of my control?"  
He looked away, glad that something might have gotten to the Chiss, but terrified that getting the idea to cement in his head might have a heavy price to pay. But he had to make sure the idea stuck. Hoping he wouldn't live to regret it, he glared back at Thrawn, hoping he looked more defiant that desperate.  
"If it meant siding with the Rebels to see you lose-"  
The anger that flashed in Thrawn's eyes cut Kallus off.  
"Trooper," he snapped. "Ready tazers."  
The deathtrooper at Kallus's left side released his hold on his shoulder. Kallus didn't dare to break eye contact with Thrawn, but his concentration was broken at the sound of a dull electronic crackle.  
"I told you before you had a heart of a rebel, Agent Kallus," Thrawn explained. "Now we'll try and change your convictions," and then, addressing the death trooper, "Every successful attack the rebel fleet inflicts upon us."  
"I want your heart to be filled with dread at each one of your friend's victories," he said, before returning to the front of the bridge.  
"Capital ships, hold your positions," Thrawn ordered the Imperial fleet. "Their ships will have to come to us."  
Kallus felt his stomach drop – was Thrawn intentionally trying to get the Rebellion to charge? He looked out the window, the death trooper standing next to him doing the same.  
The first time he saw a Rebel ship soar pass the fiery remains of a TIE fighter, he hadn't expected the shock. It was worse than any pain he'd felt so far. He couldn't even tell where he'd been hit – the electricity forced all the nerves in his body to suddenly cease up, to scream in pain – no, he was screaming in pain. But it lasted a second, he was on the ground, curled up as best he could with his hands still bound behind his back.  
And even if the pain was gone, his body trembled, his muscles not knowing how to react. And that was just one…. Just one ship.  
And it came again, and again. Kallus tried not to scream, because he was pretty sure Thrawn would find it highly satisfactory, but it became impossible to have control over anything.  
"The floor is really no place for an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau," Kallus heard Thrawn say, as if he'd just now decided to take notice of the torture going on right behind him.  
Kallus felt armored hands pull him back to his knees. He tried to lift his head, panting, trembling. The other officers on the bridge – they certainly didn't know what to make of any of this. The only person who looked even slightly unshaken by it was Governor Pryce.  
And then -  
"Konstantine! Return to your assigned coordinates, immediately!"  
Kallus returned his attention to Thrawn. The death troopers, too – they'd forgotten their order to make Kallus pay for any Imperial ships destroyed by the rebels.  
"I've had enough of your games, Grand Admiral," Konstantine's voice echoed back.  
Kallus felt a small flurry in his chest – hope. Konstantine was acting better than he'd hoped. Moving out of position, even calling Thrawn's stradegy games? That was… better than anything Kallus could have imagine. He'd read the other officer's contempt of the Grand Admiral, and he was right… he'd played Thrawn and-  
Thrawn's entire destroyer was thrown by an explosion which filled the entire window – burning pieces of wreckage peppered the shield. Kallus's eyes darted between the damage and Thrawn as disbelief filled his thoughts. That… that was one of the rebel ships… they were so dedicated to this cause they were willing to give their lives… they would win. It was in that moment that Kallus knew the Empire would lose.  
At least the death trooper on his left side was as shocked as he was – and too shocked to inflict the punishment Thrawn had ordered.  
"Sir, one rebel ship escaped the blockade," an officer approached the Grand Admiral.  
"Konstantine was careless," Thrawn said. "Let's hope he did not undermine my efforts."  
Kallus kept his head low, watching for any sign that Thrawn was beginning to suspect revolts kicking off from all of his underlings. But of course Thrawn was once again impossible to read – even after such a blatant disregard of his authority, Thrawn did not lose his cool again.


	8. Chapter 8

They'd gone back to the planet.  
Kallus's body was still protesting, muscles trembling, heart racing, chest tight. But he didn't know if those symptoms had gotten worse as Thrawn forced the rebel fleet back to ground. With star destroyers looming over head, they would have to have some fairly impressive shields to survive.  
As Thrawn was busy putting pieces into position for his next move, Kallus plotted as well. His first plan – to get Thrawn to start suspecting everyone around him of hoping to topple him – had gone better than expected. There wasn't anything more he could do for that – it would be up to Thrawn to let the idea gnaw at his mind, to misread every annoyed tone, every shifted glance.  
Now Kallus had to figure out a way to escape.  
He knew he wouldn't go anywhere with Thrawn nearby. The death troopers were too well trained, too. But Thrawn was planning a ground attack, certainly his death troopers would accompany him, keep him safe. The Chiss wasn't seriously considering bringing him down to the planet, too, was he? That seemed foolish. No one would bring a defector into a battle where they stood a chance to meet up with their friends.  
Friends. The words stabbed at Kallus. Were the rebels his friends? They had been concerned enough for his safety to launch a recovery operation… even if Ezra ~was accusing him of selling them out, it didn't mean the others did… right?  
It doesn't matter. Kallus reminded himself. He couldn't stay where he was. Thrawn's threat of prolonging his life just long enough to inflict all manners of illegal torture techniques was still keeping adrenaline coursing through his blood. No… if he wanted to live, he'd have to escape and find a way to the Rebellion. If they were planning on meeting out their own punishment against him, it couldn't possibly hold a torch to Thrawn's plans.  
So Kallus had to plan his escape.  
He wasn't exactly in the best shape to put his mind to work. His leg was throbbing, his chest burned – he couldn't hope to run, or do anything too strenuous. His back was burning from wherever that death trooper had applied his electric charge, but the other effects were slowly receding. Of course his face was still bloody and battered – his left eye felt nearly swollen shut – but he'd have to worry about that later. As long as his leg cooperated, and his muscles could be forced to deliver some quick blows – he could get out.  
Being surrounded by Imperials wasn't the best place to start.  
"How do you suppose your friends are doing, Agent Kallus?" Thrawn asked, leaving his spot before the window to address his prisoner. With a motion to the death troopers, Kallus was pulled up to his feet. He tried to put weight down on his bad leg, plaster a look of confidence on his face. Something told him that Thrawn would react worse if he showed how much pain he was really in.  
"Better than you think," Kallus answered.  
Thrawn smiled. "We will see soon enough."  
And he returned to the window.  
"Our capital ships are in position," Governor Pryce announced. "The blockade is secure."  
"Of course the blockade is secure," Kallus snapped. "They've all returned to base."  
Governor Pryce narrowed her eyes. "Why don't we just throw this traitor in a cell?"  
"Patience, Governor," Thrawn said. "I want Agent Kallus to witness firsthand the destruction of his friends. His words are little more than desperation. Ignore him."  
Governor Pryce looked over Thrawn's shoulder to give Kallus a glare. He grinned back. He was pretty sure Governor Pryce was about to say something, but shooting a glance at Thrawn, kept her mouth shut.  
That was something – she wanted him gone. He'd have to remember that.  
"What's the status of the rebel fleet?" Thrawn asked.  
"The remaining vessels have fled back to the surface, and are taking shelter under a localized shield."  
"Very good," Thrawn said. "Let's test their mettle."  
And then an order, "Commence the attack."  
Bolts of green began raining down on a tiny point somewhere far below on the planet surface. Kallus watched, knowing that if the entire rebellion was obliterated, there would be no sign. No great explosion, no signal beamed back to the star destroyer. He would have to wait…  
It took forever. Kallus's eyes darted between the planet, oddly calm and unaffected, and Thrawn, also oddly calm and unaffected. Seconds dragged on, as painfully as they did when Thrawn was torturing him.  
Kallus felt a moment of doubt - what was he truly more worried about? The death of people he hardly knew, but was hoping were his friends? Or was he terrified that if the rebellion was destroyed, he'd have no one to escape to? The terror of not having any possibility to ever escape him was a future Kallus couldn't imagine. But he wasn't selfish... he wasn't just worried about his own chances of survival. They were all in this together now.  
"They've had enough. Cease fire."  
"But the shield is still shown as holding-" Pryce started.  
"Good," Thrawn cut her off sharply. "Begin boarding the landing craft."  
Pryce looked just as confused as Konstantine had. Why not attack now? With overwhelming force? But Pryce didn't question Thrawn. Probably a smart move.  
"Governor Pryce, you're in command of the fleet while I lead the ground assault."  
Kallus laughed. He couldn't help it. If Thrawn really wanted to destroy the Rebellion, he could have done so while the fleet was in space. He could have done it now through a prolonged orbital bombardment. But he was over confident. He'd never lost before. He figured the rebels would continue to play the moves he expected them to, despite his earlier declaration that they'd act unexpectedly. No… Thrawn figured he was moving in for the kill.  
The laugh stopped Thrawn. "The plight of your friends amuses you?"  
"I've been in your position before, only to have these rebels pull a victory from certain defeat."  
"You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these rebels are about to learn."  
He took another step, and Kallus felt a wave of relief – the death troopers had moved to join Thrawn. He waited a moment to see if he'd get another shove in the back but… he didn't. He was staying. It was perhaps the best news he could have gotten. The death troopers ~and Thrawn, both out of the picture?  
But Thrawn hesitated, and held up a hand. The death troopers halted. So did Kallus's heart.  
"Someone who laughs must still have hope."  
And then, casually to the closer death trooper, "That leg is probably nearly broken, it shouldn't be difficult."  
"What? No-" Kallus blurted out. One of the death troopers looped his arms through Kallus's, holding him in place, while the other one grabbed his injured leg. Kallus grimaced, but his struggling was too weak to be effective. Eyes wide, he helplessly watched the bring down the butt of his rifle onto his thigh and -  
SNAP.  
It actually made a sound. A loud crack, a pop. Kallus screamed out agonizingly, his vision nothing but flashes of white. A moment later the death trooper released him and he crumpled to the ground. Chest heaving, battling the pain of his bruised ribs against an involuntary impulse to fill his lungs with air and scream. Kallus tried to find something to focus on, keep his mind grounded, because it seemed so precariously ready to fade. He had to stay in charge... but the pain was like a tidal wave, slamming his mind. His stomach twisted, the pain too nauseating.  
"Governor Pryce, keep Kallus here," Thrawn said. "He shouldn't pose a threat to these… storm troopers."  
A new guard took up a place on either side of Kallus, but all he could tell was where there used to be two troopers in black, they were now white. But the glimmer of hope at escaping had been snuffed out the very instant his leg snapped. Even if these weren't specialized troops… what chance did he have?


	9. chapter 9

Kallus's body was in a world separated from reality…. All outside distractions could hardly register over the wave of agony. He was dully aware of things happening – people moving, orders being given, the distant flashes of light as TIE fighters flew passed. But it was all somehow in a completely separate world, a different dimension.

Kallus had never felt so alone. So trapped. His body a prison.

"Governor, we have ships approaching."

The sound of voices were like listening underwater. Muted, blurry.

_You have to do better than this._

Kallus had to struggle to force his eyes to open, to open his ears, to force his senses to work. Putting a task before him helped the overwhelming pain. Barely.

"Rebels reinforcements?" Governor Pryce asked.

"Mandalorian, by the look of them," came the reply.

"Sabine Wren," Governor Pryce growled, Kallus looking up. The crew of the Ghost certainly didn't disappoint. If they were able to push through the obstacles to survive, Kallus had to step up, too.

"Send fighters to intercept," Pryce ordered. "And move our capital ships to reinforce them."

Kallus's mind, while reeling with pain, latched onto a new idea. He'd figured that Pryce – out of all the officers on the bridge – was the most likely to adhere vehemently to Thrawn's orders. Whatever her motives, she sought Thrawn's approval.

And yet, Thrawn couldn't have predicted this. He'd left Pryce in charge, yes, but he'd also wanted the fleet to remain where they were.

That was Kallus's only chance – he had to get Pryce to lose her confidence, to feel torn between following Thrawn and doing what the situation demanded. Possibly bad enough so that she'd unwittingly play into Kallus's other plan – getting Thrawn to see dissension everywhere.

It didn't hurt, either, that Pryce was the only person to so far voice her disgust at having Kallus so close at hand. She could easily be convinced to send him away. That's what he needed – Pryce to order him sent to a cell… while in the lift, Kallus stood a chance at knocking out his guards….

But he needed to get her angry first.

"Thrawn ordered the ships to stay in their assigned positions," Kallus spoke up, glad that the pain he was suffering under was well masked.

"If I wanted the opinion of a traitor, I'd-" Pryce started with an eye roll.

"But if… one ship moves, then they're all going to move," Kallus said. "It's going to be a disaster. Thrawn will not be pleased."

"Guards, I don't want to hear any more from this rebel sympathizer," she said.

_That worked great! Now to build up your strength so you can-_

But Pryce hadn't meant to take Kallus to a cell. He found out as his entire body was suddenly engulfed in pain. The tazer again…. If the storm trooper wasn't holding onto him, he'd have ended up on the ground already. Without meaning to, a tormented gasp left his lips, a desperate intake of air.

_Calm down, the pain will go away. You have to try again. She has to send you away._

Unfortunately, as things went silent, the pain in Kallus's leg began encroaching on his mind. He had been trying to avoid looking at it – things always looked worse than what they were, but as the storm troopers on either side, forced him to his knees, he subconsciously glanced down and…

The next thing Kallus knew, a hand was shaking his shoulder. He'd passed out.

_Don't look again._

But his imagination was ignited. That injury… it looked… how was he going to escape? There was no way he was going to use that leg. His pants were black, so it was difficult to recall, but… were they wet? Was he bleeding? A compound fracture…. Could be life threatening. Nevermind using it to walk. He'd have to drag himself to an escape pod… and hope no one saw him….

_It's not impossible. Just difficult. Two different things._

"Governor, the enemy fighters have deployed a strike team onto the hull of our Interdictor cruiser," an officer spoke up. Kallus was glad to have something new to focus on.  


"Well, repel them!" Governor Pryce barked back.

"Great order, Governor," Kallus panted, forcing a grin on his face. He had to convince her that he would not stop being a nuisance. "You'll end the entire Rebellion with clarity like that."

"What is it going to take to convince you that I won't tolerate this kind of insubordination?" Pryce growled, signaling to the storm trooper.

Brace yourself. Kallus winced, feeling the all-encompassing torment of the tazer again. Except this time, he opened his eyes, on the ground. He was losing the battle against his body. He'd passed out, again. For how long, it was impossible to tell. It wouldn't do him any good if he passed out and woke up to find himself already locked away in a cell.

"Governor, we have a problem," an officer shouted.

"I don't want to hear it! Just, stop them! Nothing gets through!"

_This was almost too easy._

"Thrawn's not going to be happy with you making a mess of his fleet," Kallus said with an all too apparent laugh on his words.

Pryce wheeled around, eyes blazing.

"Throw this traitor out the airlock," she said.

_Whoa, Governor. WHOA._

Kallus had to remember he wasn't actually looking for a chance to escape, and quickly changed his smile into a look of surprise. Of course, if he didn't have a plan, he'd have probably resisted, but he let the storm troopers grab his arms and drag him away.

But still, it was hard not to be completely surprised by her reaction.

_The airlock!?_

Either she was beyond stressed or he really nailed the whole "be irritating" thing.

Of course, now was the moment of truth. Kallus concentrated, forcing the agony from his mind the best he could. He'd only have one shot at this. Thankfully working for the Empire for years taught him a few things – like how absolutely vulnerable storm troopers could be in their armor. Just the right kind of strike at their helmets would force their neck a certain way and mean instant unconsciousness. He just had to be able to force his body to obey him, and not give in to the pain.


	10. chapter 10

Kallus leaned against the back of the lift, steadying his breath. Of course they would make him stand – he had a horrible suspicion that his leg was an absolute mess and the storm troopers were too squeamish to try and force him onto his knees. Which couldn't possibly have improved his chances of escape. Sure, it wasn't a perfect situation. His broken leg was throbbing, his eyes kept slipping out of focus, but this was it. The moment of destiny. If he failed now, he was dead.

"We're… not really going to throw him out the airlock, are we?" the storm trooper on the right asked.

"Are you kidding?" the other said. "The Grand Admiral would have us on the bridge, torturing us. No, this one's going into the detention block."

Kallus was relieved for a moment –he hoped he wouldn't need to be reassured that his life wouldn't end in the cold expanse of open space. Though that would have been the humane death to wish for. At the rate things were going now, he could die simply from trying to stay alive.

How he was going to escape wasn't yet entirely clear. His leg was completely useless. He couldn't stand – if he weren't leaning against the wall of the lift, he would have been on the ground. His hands were still bound behind his back. He knew how to wriggle his arms under his legs to get bound hands to his front, but with the broken leg…. He knew it would be asking a miracle to manage it without seriously complicating his injury.

But he still had to try. Even if the whole effort was fruitless, even if he ended up in a cell, he had to give it his best shot.

No time like the present.

Kallus winced, and leaned forward, gagging.

"Oh, great, now what?" the storm trooper on the left said.

Kallus struck. While he was bent over, pretending to be sick, the storm trooper on the left leaned over to look, and Kallus made his move. Putting as much force in his good leg as he could draw out of his battered body, he threw his whole body into his opponent's unsuspecting face. It worked – Kallus felt the trooper go limp – their helmets made them vulnerable to losing conscious if the head was jolted even the slightest.

Unfortunately, Kallus could barely make out where the other trooper was. He'd used his head as a battering ram, and his vision responded by blurring out. The storm trooper he'd attacked had slumped to the ground, which gave Kallus almost no place to plant his good foot – he lost balance immediately, and collapsed into the wall.

The other storm trooper wasn't used to close quarters fighting. He fumbled with his rifle, actually looking down at it to try to figure out how to put it in stun mode. Kallus had to mentally congratulate Thrawn for terrifying them so much that this storm trooper was more concerned about knocking Kallus out than killing him and risk facing Thrawn's rage.  
He couldn't submit to his body, not yet.

He lunged forward – well, that was an overstatement. The elevator was small enough, and Kallus was large enough, that pretty much all he had to do was fall towards the other storm trooper. And in his desperation to not kill Kallus but subdue him by engaging the stun function on his rifle, the storm trooper had pointed the barrel of his rifle up. When Kallus knocked into him, the shock of the stun managed to hit the other storm trooper and…

He'd done it.

Kallus had to act on this chance. Except now his blurry vision was making him feel nauseous for real. The walls were starting to slip away from him… no, he was just getting dizzy… vertigo. He must have been more injured than he thought.

The sensation was absolutely impossible to fight. The wall truly felt like it was slowly slipping away from him.

Focus on something.

It was a tactic that had helped in the past, but every time he got his eyes trained on something, it felt like his brain kept moving straight past it, and… the ground was slowly tipping out from under his feet.

He came to, unsure of how much time had passed.

The first sensation he was aware of was desperate thirst. Not a good sign. Thirst meant blood loss, a lot of blood loss. And his broken leg… there was lots of major arteries and veins in the thigh… had his attempt to escape cost him his life?

He was utterly helpless. His hands were still bound behind his back. He coughed, gasping as he struggled to breath. He tried to focus his eyes on something, to ground himself, to give him a place to start, to take in his surroundings, but everything was slipping away. The nausea was making the vertigo worse, or was it the vertigo making the nausea… And there was that annoying piece of hair that kept falling into his face.

The two storm troopers were still unconscious, the lift was still descending.

Get up.

It was coming down to mentally shouting orders at himself. Training his mind to concentrate on each task that he had to do, without worrying about what he would do if it didn't work.

You need your hands.

Kallus grimaced – he knew this was going to be difficult. Just forcing himself to kneel was drawing out strength he knew he needed to reserve for his final escape. He clenched his teeth together, bracing himself, as he worked his hands around to his feet. He picked a spot on the ceiling to stare at, and tried to move his hands as quickly as possible.

Though by the time he'd forced his arms around his broken leg, he was pretty sure every living thing on the star destroyer had heard him scream.

Kallus looked down at his hands – they were trembling uncontrollably and almost completely numb. But he had his hands in front of him now.

He lifted his hands to the control panel and hit a button. The escape pods would be on the bottom level….

Kallus knew walking was out of the question, so he plotted out his next move. He'd have to crawl – use his elbows and his one good leg to push himself across the floor… He knew how star destroyers were mapped out. The escape pods would be right outside the lift doors.

When the doors opened, Kallus began.

Glancing up and down the hall, he was glad to see it deserted. Somehow, being on the ground helped keep him from getting too dizzy. Mentally, he had to keep telling himself what to do. He'd maneuvered his wrists so they were opposite each other, hands grasping on to the other limbs' forearm. He used his elbows alternately, driving one into the ground and letting his good leg push him forward.

He had no idea how long it took, because the only thoughts going through his mind were instructions telling him what to do.

Now how was he going to get into the escape pod?

He would have to stand for that. Kallus just laid on the ground, looking up at it, for what felt like forever. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, pulling his good leg towards his chest, and rested on his knee. Kallus had been panting before, but now his breath was coming shallow, quick… things weren't going good. He had to hurry.

But he was stuck on his hands and knee for the longest time, trying to figure out what to do next. That seemed to be how things were – get stuck in a position, and test his body to see what he could manipulate out of it to get what needed to be done, done.

Okay, so there were steps leading up to the escape pod. He had to slowly, carefully, raised his hands so he could worm his forearms onto the top one… and then pushed with his arms to slowly force his body up, and….

He slammed into the wall, breathing heavy.

The control panel.

But he could barely make out the buttons – they were dancing around in front of him. He closed his eyes and imagined what it should look like, lifted his hands in unison, and hit a button.

He heard the door of the escape pod pop open, and literally just dropped himself into it.

He opened his eyes to find himself on his back, looking up at the ceiling of the escape pod.

At least you made it in here.

But that's not good enough.

He pushed himself towards the seat with his good leg, until his head hit the control panel. He reached up, grabbed the arm of the chair, and pulled himself up to a sitting position.  
Forget the seat.

He knew it was stupid – he was surely going to get jostled badly. Maybe his mind was becoming absolutely careless, but he reached up onto the control panel behind his head and grabbed the level to engage and…

He was pretty sure he'd just made the stupidest decision of his life, because he certainly was jostled around the cabin. But once the thrusters stopped – waiting for a command from the operator – he was able to hit another button – disengage artificial gravity.

It was the greatest sensation in the world, to be suddenly free of the pressure of gravity. His injuries seemed to lessen somewhat. Either that or he was literally dying and his mind was filling him with endorphins.

But at least floating helped him reach the control panel. There was a list – possible destinations. Escape pods would pick up the signals of any available ship. And Kallus had spent nearly a year and half chasing the Ghost, he recognized it in an instant.

He reached forward and selected it, and waited.

They'd have to accept his transmission, and then the two ship's navigational computers would talk, and the escape pod would make the necessary course corrections so they could line up. But the crew of the Ghost would have to want to pick him up.

Kallus winced again, waiting. The seconds dragged on.

He knew it was a long shot. He still was entirely certain that he'd done nothing to warrant the forgiveness of anyone on the Ghost. Not to mention that there was no way for him to tell them who he was – they would just get a random plea from an escape pod from an Imperial star destroyer and-

The computer beeped, and Kallus felt the ship's thrusters engage.

Kallus looked the port, and could see a ship, probably the Ghost… his eyes were getting more and more fuzzy. He knew why – his mind sensed he was safe… there was no need to-


	11. chapter 11

"We've got an incoming transmission?"

Hera couldn't believe it. The entire rebel fleet already had their communication systems synced. No one would be attempting to hail them unless it was Imperial. Reluctantly, Hera reached over and touched the panel next to the communications computer. Hey, if it was Thrawn, that would be something to listen to.

But on the other end, nothing happened. There was just silence, and coordinates. Coordinates would mean someone wanted to be picked up.

"There's an escape pod on my scope," Hera said after checking her screen.

"An escape pod?" Kanan echoed. "From where?"

"I don't know," Hera said – honestly, how did Kanan expect her to know with the absolute mess of a battle field they were currently navigating, "but it's Imperial."

"It's Kallus!" Zeb shouted.

Hera weighed her options.

On one hand, she distrusted the Imperial spy. It was hard for her to forget being hunted down all over the galaxy by that ISB agent for nearly two years. Not to mention all the horrible things he'd done – the destruction of Lasan, framing them for the murder of Minister Tua, allowing Kanan to be tortured by that Inquisitor…? The list could go on indefinitely.

The moment Kanan told her that Agent Kallus had played the part of Fulcrum – that he knew the secret code phrase – that he was actually helping? Hera was serious when she warned the Ghost crew to take caution with their new friend.

But he'd rescued Sabine from the Imperial fighter pilot academy, and helped Zeb survive on the ice moon of Geonosis. He'd helped Ezra and Kanan escape the factory on Lothal. It seemed genuine.

Kallus could have lured the rebels into a trap. He'd never asked the rebellion for anything in exchange for what he was doing. No requests for rebel information, no pleas for amnesty. His desire to help had been entirely one sided.

But Thrawn had also found the location of their rebel base, and Kallus had known where it was.

Kallus didn't give that up easily, Hera told herself.

And as much as she still was conflicted about Kallus's end game, leaving him behind didn't feel right.

"Let's get him," Hera said, hitting a button on the adjacent panel, accepting the escape pod's call. The two navigation computers began talking, and the Ghost suggested a new trajectory for pick up. Hera pulled on the stick, sending her ship in a bank.

The escape pod was hard to see out of the window, but once its' own navigation computer began its rendezvous maneuver, Hera could see the tiny speck of light begin to move. At least she didn't need to go back – with the swarms of TIE fighters hounding their retreat, it would have been impossible to go back.

"Zeb, we're going to have to make this quick," Hera ordered. "I need to jettison that escape pod before we can jump."

As the Lasat left the cabin, Hera risked a look in Kanan's direction.

"You made the right choice," Kanan said. Hera smiled. Her conflict must have sent a ripple through the Force. His reassurance was all she needed – he hadn't seen Kallus earlier, when Thrawn snidely presented him to the rebel command in his hologram message. There had been too much going on to explain it, either. But if Kanan was willing to accept Kallus, she could give him a chance, too.

Hera watched out the window, her navigation computer recommending another course adjustment, the escape pod approaching quickly. It zipped under the hull of her ship, and a dull clank shook the floor beneath her.

"Got him," she said, hitting another few buttons, and banking again to regroup with the rest of the fleet.

"Zeb, you've got to jettison that escape pod!" Hera reminded him over the intercom. When her displays didn't indicate otherwise, Hera looked over at the inner-ship display screen. The hatch to the Ghost was open, so at least the two ships docked properly. Was it empty? Was it a trap?

"Zeb?" Hera asked again, urgently. The last thing she was going to do was tow an Imperial escape pod with them in hyper space. Never mind the cost in fuel, those things had trackers. Even if the fleet wouldn't head straight away to Yavin base, she didn't want to be tracked anywhere.

"Hera…" she heard Zeb's voice. "It's…."

But whatever it was, Zeb couldn't find the words.

-SWR-

Zeb was outside the hatch before the escape pod even docked. Waiting… nervously.

He'd been elsewhere when the rebel command team received the last Fulcrum message, but when the fleet began to mobilize a quick response, the explanation was chilling. Agent Kallus had only managed to deliver a few words of a message before being cut off. Zeb didn't like it.

And he'd been with Rex helping to get the shield generator up and running when Thrawn had hailed their base, so he didn't know what kind of a state his friend was in. But if he'd been on Thrawn's star destroyer? If he was in an escape pod? Connecting that to the fact his Fulcrum message was cut off… it didn't sound good.

Even if some of the other members of the crew were still unsure of his intentions, Zeb understood where Kallus was coming from. Ezra didn't stop complaining after his failed extraction that Kallus was merely setting them up, that he would betray the rebels. It didn't matter how many times Zeb had to tell his roommate he was wrong, the kid was fixed in his opinion.

Kallus didn't want to be rescued because he didn't feel like he deserved it. Zeb understood. Granted, he didn't think Kallus was right, but he understood where he was coming from. He'd felt the same kind of guilt for being unable to save his home world.

For a while, he'd hoped that if he managed to kill Kallus, then it would make some move towards redemption. End the life of the one who ordered the use of disruptors against his people? That would balance things out alright.

But when he'd been trapped with Kallus, when they were forced to work together and talk? Zeb realized Kallus had felt the same way about him…. The way he described his first meeting with a Lasat… that he was paralyzed with helplessness, unable to save his friends from being brutally murdered? Kallus had been doing the same thing Zeb had been– hoping that if he was able to kill Zeb, that somehow it would heal the scars of what he'd been through, to mend the pain of not being able to do anything to save his friends.

And then Kallus had apologized for what had happened on Lasan. "It wasn't supposed to be a massacre," he'd said. "But I realize the Empire wanted to make an example. I know before, I took credit for it-" It had been difficult for him to say. But it was sincere. And with that, Zeb was able to move on, and forgive himself, too, for his own failure to save his world.

They'd saved each other, in more ways than one. Even if the others in the crew didn't believe him, he trusted Kallus completely.

The Ghost shook, and the panel next to the hatch lit up – a red button switching off and a green button lighting up. Zeb pulled down on a lever, and the Ghost's hatch opened up.  
"Kallus?" Zeb asked, stepping inside the escape pod.

At first, he thought it was empty. No one was in the seat. Zeb took a step inside, looking around, annoyance replacing his worry. Did this thing malfunction? Was it merely bugged, like Hera was thinking, in order to track them? Zeb's face fell as he looked around his head. Was it a bomb?

He took a step to leave, but then noticed there was a spot on the floor that didn't reflect the light… it was cloth.

"Kallus?" Zeb called out again, rushing forward. Kallus was crumpled under the control panel, his black Imperial uniform perfectly camouflaging him inside the black escape pod. Zeb smiled, happy to see his friend really had made it. And he was ready to tease him, figuring he'd gotten knocked out when the two ships docked. He hadn't been wearing his restraining belt, after all.

But when Zeb grabbed Kallus's shoulder and turned him, he jumped back.

Hera's voice warbled over the loudspeakers, but Zeb didn't register any words.

"Kallus? Hey, Kallus?" Zeb said, his heart sinking, giving Kallus's shoulder a firm shake. His face was just an absolute mess…. Dried blood all over it. His eye utterly black and swollen shut…. They'd certainly done a number on him.

"Zeb?" Hera's voice called out again.

"Hera," Zeb replied. "It's…"

Zeb looked Kallus up and down, and knew they didn't have much time. Quickly, he dragged Kallus out from where he'd landed. When Zeb saw his broken leg, his hands lost their grip.

"What did they do to you?" Zeb said. It was definitely not the time to ask questions like that. Zeb wormed an arm under Kallus's shoulders and the other arm under his knees. Zeb was surprised with how heavy the human was – when he carried him on Geonosis's moon, he'd still been conscious. The dead weight was unnerving.

Zeb got out of the escape pod, and barely remembered to jettison the escape pod. The hiss of hydraulics echoed.

"Thank you," Hera's voiced over the intercom. The ship rattled a bit and suddenly the rid went smooth – they'd made the jump.

"Garazeb," a faint whisper. Zeb looked down, long enough to see Kallus's eyelids flutter open, and close again.

"Don't worry, buddy," Zeb said. "You're on the Ghost now. You're safe."

Safe from the Empire, sure, but from his injuries...


	12. chapter 12

"Karabast."

That was an understatement. Zeb wouldn't consider himself an expert on human anatomy, not by a long shot. But in all the times he'd spent with them, he'd never seen one in as bad of shape as the one currently in his arms, and still be breathing.

Kallus certainly was the toughest human he'd ever known. Even Kanan (and to a lesser degree, Ezra) who were Jedi, couldn't hold a candle to their Fulcrum.

"Hold on, Kallus," Zeb added. Desperate. Not entirely sure how his friend was going to pull out of this one.

There was only one Zeb thought of to bring Kallus to – his cabin.

The lounge was closer to the storage closets, which housed the medical supplies, but there was no way Zeb was going to lay Kallus on the cold, hard, metal floor. The lounge's couch was out of the question – it was curved, there was a table fixed to the ground in front of it, and neither of those factors would help in taking care of his friend.

Zeb laid Kallus's limp figure down on his bed, worry on his face. He didn't give a moment's thought to getting blood all over his bedding, but when he drew his arms away, and found blood on his hand-

"Zeb?" he heard Hera's voice, in that confused and worried tone she would use sometimes when she didn't know whether to be caring or angry. She lingered at the door. "What's going on?"

"It's Kallus, he's-" but Zeb cut himself off before he could put into words the direness of the situation.

Hera took a step forward, trying to get a peek over the Lasat's enormously broad shoulders, but Zeb interrupted, "Medical supplies, Hera. Fast."

Maybe it was something about the tone of his voice, but Hera slipped away without another word.

It had been a while since the days of the Honor Guard, but Zeb had gone through some emergency first aid training. The kind of stuff that would help keep a fellow Lasat alive long enough to receive true medical treatment. And even if humans were tiny, and frail, and had the strangest, tiniest, flattest feet, they were extremely similar in many other ways.

First step, assessment.

Zeb didn't have to try very hard to prioritize Kallus's injuries. A bleeding compound fracture was the most immediate threat to his life. But to do anything about that, he'd need medical supplies. And there was no point in waiting for Hera to return.

To find injuries, you have to see them.

And unfortunately, Kallus's hands were still bound.

"Kanan!" Zeb shouted. "I need those Jedi skills of yours!"

At least Kanan was fast.

"These hand irons," Zeb explained. He didn't need to explain further than that. Kanan reached out his hand, doing whatever it was that he did to manipulate the Force, and the hand irons sprung open suddenly. Zeb didn't waste a moment. The restraints clattered to the ground.

Removing Kallus's protective vest was fairly easy. At least it came apart with minimal convincing. Zeb threw the two pieces on the ground, soon joined by the waist belt. The uniform top was easily ripped open, the snap closures not giving much resistance.

Zeb's face fell when he saw his friend's bare chest. Kallus's neck had distinctive, individual finger-shaped bruises around it… his chest, dotted with darkened patches.  
Hera's soft footsteps crept up on him.

"We're going to need more than this," Zeb said, grabbing the white box from her, opening it and looking inside. His face fell as he shoved items around, causing them to spill out of the box.

"This cannot be all we have," he said in denial. "There's not even a bacta patch?"

A bacta patch he could throw on top of that leg fracture. It would at least do until they could get the former Imperial agent into a proper bacta tank... but without one?

"He's going to need fluids. Saline, and a lot of it."

"Zeb-?"

He knew that tone. A gentle, motherly tone. Like the softening before a blow.

"He's going to be fine," Zeb insisted. "Never met a human tougher."

And she was gone.

These medical supplies weren't ideal, but they would do. He grabbed a pair of trauma sheers – scissors with an angled handle – used for removing clothing. Of course, they would be sized for a human hand. Growling with frustration, Zeb threw them aside.

Grabbing the fabric of Kallus's pants, he ripped them into shreds. At last the wound was exposed, and… it certainly didn't look good. The bone was startling white, shattered, the jagged points cutting through flesh. And the red blood… dark. That was good… it oozed from the wound, not spurting… good signs…

Hera was back with the saline solution, and Zeb grabbed on and ripped it open. Pouring it onto the wound, washing the blood away.

"What can I do?" Hera asked.

"Get a tourniquet ready," Zeb said. "There should be some in that box. We can't apply pressure to stop the bleeding, with a break like this, you make it worse."

Without taking his eyes off the wound, he felt a nudge, Hera was giving him a tourniquet. It was a loop of nylon, he'd have to slide it up Kallus's leg.

"Check for a pulse," Hera said.

"I didn't know you knew anything about first aid," Zeb said, grabbing Kallus's boot and pulling it off. That was a relief – his foot looked… normal. Maybe a little pale but it was living. It still was receiving blood. Just as he thought. The dark red blood oozing from the wound – venous blood. The arteries were still bringing flesh blood into his leg. Well, not for long.  
"Sorry, buddy," Zeb apologized, as he snaked the tourniquet loop to the highest part of Kallus's thigh. If Kallus was evenly mildly conscious, he was going to wake up.

Zeb tightened the tourniquet as far as he could pull the fabric, and then started to wind the windlass stick. The wound would continue bleeding – it's source was the blood already in the leg, but at least by cutting off the flow from the rest of his body, Kallus wouldn't slowly bleed out.

Kallus's eyes shot open and he jolted up, screaming, trying desperately to push Zeb away. But Kallus was too weak, and Zeb too determined. It only took a few seconds and Kallus passed back out again.

"There," he said, securing the windlass in place. "Hope he doesn't wake up again, this hurts more than the break does."

"He's going to be okay?" Hera asked, her voice weak. Zeb looked over his shoulder at her, but her eyes were fixated on their patient.

"The worst part is taken care of," Zeb said, feeling somewhat pleased. "But he's not out of this yet."

"Saline?" Hera asked.

"Ready it up," Zeb answered.

Hera's help was calming. Something about her insistence to help, it was an effort to make right her doubts about the Imperial spy. She'd harbored doubts about Kallus longer than the other crew members. Except for listening to transmissions, Hera's interactions with Kallus were entirely negative, from a past Kallus was obviously ready to leave.

But there must have been something about the state he was in that spoke louder than her fears.

"Ready," Hera said, handing him a bag of clear fluid with a line, syringe and needle prepped.

"And here I thought you didn't have any medical training," Zeb said with a weak laugh.

"I didn't," she answered. "You taught us, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I did," Zeb said. "This might… need a more delicate touch."

Ribbing off uniforms and tightening tourniquets was something he could do – poking a human with a needle and not just outright stabbing him was going to be a little harder to do. Hera didn't answer, she just slid into position.

"Okay… so… looking for a vein," she said, mimicking how she'd seen others try to start fluids… a vein on the inside of the elbow. But… she really had no idea what she was looking for. She'd hoped there would be a faint blue line right under the surface of the skin but…

"Karabast," Zeb muttered.

"Talk to me," Hera said.

"He's … lost a lot of fluids," Zeb said.

"That's why we're doing this, isn't it?" Hera asked.

"No, the … veins," Zeb said. "If you've lost fluids, they… shrink. You can't-"

"Then we have to find another one," Hera said. "Now I just wish I knew where they'd be."

"This is perfect," Zeb muttered. "The two non-humans trying to-"

Zeb cut himself off as Kanan, who'd been silently standing off to the side, made a movement.

"You don't count," Zeb said. No offense, but even if Kanan could use the Force to "see" objects, it wouldn't help them in this situation.

"Got it," Hera said. Zeb turned around to see the Twi'lek feeding the needle into the back of Kallus's hand.

"Alright, Hera!" Zeb said, smiling. "Now tape it down so it doesn't fall out."

And… that was it.

"How much longer until the fleet stops?" Kanan asked, predicting Zeb's next question.

"It'll be another hour or so before we reach our first stop," Hera said.

"If he makes it that long."

Zeb growled, not at either of his friends, but at the situation. If Kallus had made it this far – escaped from Thrawn, escaped from the Empire, there was no way he'd fail now. Hera and Kanan slipped away, maybe to try and hail the other ships and organize a stop.

Zeb looked at Kallus's face, wincing. He grabbed a package of gauze and opened it, using another one of the saline bags to wet it. And as gently as he could, Zeb began wiping away the dried blood that was caked all over his friend's face.

They didn't have any supplies to make stitches, so Zeb placed another fresh square of gauze over the tear in Kallus's lip, and taped it down as best as he could. It looked ugly but it was the best he could do. And Kallus's eye…. Zeb rummaged around the aid box, until he found a cold pack. Activating it, he placed it over Kallus's swollen eye. There… that would work. Zeb secured it in place by wrapped gauze all around his head.

And… that was… all the could do.

The feeling of helplessness, of not doing anything, set to work immediately. Zeb sighed, patting Kallus's arm.

"Hold on, Kal," he said. "You've made it this far…"


	13. chapter 13

There was nothing to occupy the time, nothing to fill the silence. It only took a few minutes to drag on for Zeb to go back to taking care of his injured friend.

Almost as though it were an afterthought, Zeb pulled off the black gloves from Kallus's hands, frowning when he saw the deep cuts along his wrists… He'd tried to resist… or else maybe he'd suffered pain so great he couldn't help but pull at his binds.

But at least finding a new injury gave Zeb something to do. He wetted another piece of gauze, wiping away the blood, wrapping both his wrists.

Hera and Kanan came back, Hera with a cup of caf, as though they weren't really sure how the best to be supportive.

"I see he's improving," Kanan said.

"It's not the best time to try being funny, Kanan," Zeb said, pretty sure that the Jedi was making some kind of joke.

"I'm serious," Kanan went on. "I can sense…. Well, he seems to be stabilizing. Heart rate not too fast, not too slow…"

"You can tell all that?" Zeb asked. He was constantly amazed with the seemingly random skills Jedi seemed to possess.

"Like you said, it's not the time for jokes," Kanan said. Fair enough, Zeb thought. And then his ears perked up a bit.

"You make sure we didn't miss anything?" Zeb asked. Hell, Kallus was in a bad enough way, who knows what else could have been wrong with him.

Kanan answered by reaching out a hand, a scowl of concentration on his face. After another few seconds passed, he straightened up.

"You're good," Kanan said. "You did a good job, Zeb."

"Yeah, well, after all he's been through…." Zeb started and trailed off. Just because Kanan said he'd treated all of Kallus's injuries didn't mean that Kallus was suddenly out of the woods. There was still a long ways to go.

Hera and Kanan left, and the silence slowly filled the cabin again, like an oppressive weight.

A groan.

Zeb glanced over at Kallus and was relieved to see his friend's eyes struggling to open. And then his face fell again, realizing he hadn't seen any sort of painkillers in the medpac. 

And without the bacta patch to repair his broken leg, that tourniquet was not going to feel very good.

Almost the exact moment Zeb thought that, Kallus's eyes shot open and he lurched up, pawing at his leg and screaming.

"Hold on, Kal," Zeb said again, not really knowing what else to say as he held Kallus down to the bed with his hand. Still he struggled. Not that he blamed him. The next hour was going to be a long one.

Kallus was pretty sure his leg was gone. He couldn't imagine what else could cause so much pain. Even when Thrawn had ordered it broken, it hadn't hurt that bad.

And that Lasat…. Trying to hold him back. He was too weak to pry his hand off him, and forcing Zeb to restrain him only agitated his chest…

Suddenly he gasping and coughing. Zeb immediately lifted his hand, but Kallus could barely lift his arms again. Instead he wrapped them around his chest, trying to hold himself together as cough after cough wracked his body.

Kallus's mind was reeling. The pain was making him delirious. He tried to remember where he'd come from… how he got… where was he anyways? He tightened his jaw, struggling to keep his screams under control. Had Thrawn won? Had he captured all the rebels? Is that where they were? In the detention cells?

He forced his mind to focus, ignoring the throbbing of his leg was difficult, but he could calm down his racing heart long enough to get his breathing under control. His fingers were trembling, reaching out for his leg – each time he got close, he felt Zeb's enormous hands grab his.

His leg must really have gotten chopped off… it was so bad Zeb was trying to keep the truth from him.

Kallus opened his eyes again, trying to read the truth from Zeb's face. He looked devastated! What had happened?

When Kallus tried to prop himself up onto his elbows, Zeb against pushed him back.

"Garazeb… where…?" Kallus mumbled, before a hiss of pain cut him off.

"Don't worry, Kal," Zeb said. "You're on the Ghost."

The Ghost?!

"I'm… free?" Kallus whispered. The look on Zeb's face – was that shock? Did Zeb not realize how things had been with the Empire?

"Hold on for just a little while longer," Zeb said. "When the rebel fleet rendezvous again, we'll get you to a bacta tank and you'll… you'll be alright."

Kallus closed his eyes again, struggling to remember what had happened. How did he manage to get on the Ghost?

But the pain came back in a wave, causing another scream to escape his lips, another desperate effort to tear the tourniquet away.

"Sorry, Kal, we had to," Zeb said, not realizing Kallus thought his leg had been amputated. "We didn't have the right medical supplies, your leg was bleeding badly and we couldn't put any pressure dressing on it…"

"So you just cut it off?" Kallus growled.

"What?!" Zeb said. "How could your leg be hurting if it isn't even there?!"

But Kallus's mind couldn't process something that logical, and he passed out again. He didn't wake up, not even when the ships of the rebel fleet all came out of hyperspace, and the Ghost began docking with one of the larger ships…. Zeb didn't know which one, and he didn't care.

Even if moving someone in such a state as Kallus was not a good idea, desperation was making Zeb reckless. Waiting for the ships to dock was unbearable, so he scooped up Kallus and practically ran to the airlock.

Thankfully the team that was sent to retrieve him had come prepared, and Zeb laid his friend down on the hovering stretcher.

"We've got it from here," the medical droid said mechanically. Zeb nearly pushed it over. "You may return to your ship."

"Not a chance. We're sticking together," Zeb said. "So move out of my way, I'm coming aboard."


	14. chapter 14

Kallus opened his eyes, though the effort consumed him. His entire body was drained. He fought against the urge to drift back to unconsciousness.

Wherever he was, it was warm, and soft, and safe. A corner of his mind begged to go back to unconsciousness, and for a moment, Kallus wondered why he was trying to wake up so badly.

_You have to escape._

It was an odd thought, because everything around him argued the contrary. Why escape? How could he be in danger? But it was there all the same, some vague terror deep within his mind refusing to let him rest.

Perhaps another minute dragged before Kallus won the battle, opened his eyes, letting them focus. Wherever he was, it was bright, making it difficult to find something to concentrate on. There was a blob of blue, and Kallus narrowed his eyes, trying to make something out.

"Oh, it's you," Kallus said, surprised to hear how weak his voice was.

"Yeah… hey, Kallus," Ezra answered. There was a different tone on his voice, much more dull from the last time they'd spoken. Subdued. Ashamed? Kallus watched the Jedi padawan, his mind unable to figure out why it was weird he was talking to him.

Kallus blinked a few times, a dull throbbing in his head keeping him from making any concrete conclusions. You have to escape.

That thought kept shouting out, an idea that kept shoving him in the back, urging him forward, to do something. But Ezra was here? What was he doing here? Where was here?  
He's here to get you out. Get out of what?

With a sudden jolt, Kallus remembered everything – trying to send the warning to the Rebellion, getting captured by Thrawn, tortured, interrogated, his escape.

"Whoa," Ezra said. "Hey, calm down. You're okay. You're with the Rebellion now."

"I'm… what?" Kallus asked, looking around himself. Well, it certainly wasn't a prison cell.

He was laying in a white room, in a bed with white linens. He didn't know how, but he knew immediately he was on a planet somewhere. On solid ground. But obviously not on Atollon… that base couldn't have survived the onslaught Thrawn threw down upon it. Was there another hidden rebel base then?

"So you… took me in?" Kallus said, holding his head – sitting up so quickly had made him lightheaded.

"Of course," Ezra said. "After everything you did to help us-"

"You think so?" Kallus asked.

He noticed the Jedi look away. Yes, that was certainly some kind of embarrassment. Kallus couldn't easily forget the last time he'd spoken with Bridger.

"What could have possibly convinced you I did everything to help the Rebellion," Kallus asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Ezra said. "You heard Thrawn knew about our attack on Lothal, tried to warn us, got caught, got beat up, tried to get Thrawn to destroy himself, escaped."

Kallus stared back, wide mouthed.

"Yeah, you talk a lot," Ezra said. "You know, while you were recovering. And you weren't in the best shape when they got you. Pretty obvious you didn't betray us."

Kallus found himself smiling slightly. It was probably the nicest thing the Jedi padawan had ever said. But the acceptance, even from a teenager, meant everything to him.

So this was how it would be? He was wearing simple pajamas, the dark wrappings of the Empire already gone. Like he'd been washed clean, made anew. And he woke up to a new dawn, a new life, a new purpose.

"This is better than I ever imagined," Kallus admitted.

"Don't say that just yet," Ezra said, the embarrassment gone, the cocky self-confidence back. "There's a lot of work left to be done."

Kallus nodded, smiling to himself, not knowing what else to say. Ezra had forgiven him, apparently, the big wigs of the Rebellion hadn't seen a reason to throw him straight into prison… he'd redeemed himself. It wasn't even what he'd set out to do, but he'd managed it.

"Welcome to the Rebellion," Ezra said with a smile of his own, standing up.

The Jedi was gone.

Kallus was only alone a moment longer, when another visitor arrived.

"Garazeb," Kallus said, the relief all too apparent on his voice.

"It's about time you woke up," Zeb said, though his words were an attempt to give Kallus a hard time, it was obvious the Lasat was happy.

"Yeah, Ezra already said, there's work to be done," Kallus said, swinging his legs out from under the blankets. But being unconscious for so long had done a number on his muscles.

"Here," Zeb said, offering a hand. Kallus was pretty sure he didn't need it, but couldn't turn down Zeb's help. It was still flooring him. They're even helping me… They really do accept me.

"We didn't really know what to bring for you," Zeb said after he'd gotten Kallus standing, gesturing to a small pile of clothes next to the bed.

"It's been so long since I've worn anything other than a uniform," Kallus began as a way to explain, letting the rest of that statement hang in the air.

"No better time to make a new Kallus," Zeb said with a smile.

Kallus got dressed, not really knowing what to wear but just grabbing things at random. They really did try to give him options, and Kallus's heart warmed at the thought. It was almost too much. But he scolded himself as he thought he didn't deserve it. If the rebels had forgiven him, he had to forgive himself.

He was surprised everything fit.

Kallus felt his recovery room, walking slowly, taking everything in. Rebels were walking up and down the halls of whatever base they were at, some running, no one so much as casting him a second glance.

For a moment, Kallus was lost. Where had Zeb gone? Where was ~anyone he recognized? The people walking around him were all strangers, and there were so many of them. Had the Rebellion really been so large? Was the hatred against the Empire really this intense?

"Hey, Kallus!" a complete stranger called out, Kallus turning around awkwardly, wondering how anyone knew who he was. "They're waiting for you outside."

Kallus wanted to ask who was waiting for him, or what it was that was talking to him, or how anyone knew his name, but the random rebel just turned around and ran back the way he'd come. Towards what looked like a giant briefing room. A pull of curiosity, he took a step to wander into the room, but Kallus subdued it. They were waiting.

Of course, it would be the crew of the Ghost.

Again, the feeling struck him. They had asked for him. They wanted him to be part of their crew. The forgiveness felt almost too complete, too easy – but Kallus had to stop himself again. Would he ever be able to let it go?

As he approached, the crew turned to face him. What had Ezra said? Something about there being a lot of work left to do to take down the Empire? He was ready for it.

"It's time to get to work."


End file.
